


Like Old Times

by xxMumford



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Chicago Blackhawks, M/M, National Hockey League
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMumford/pseuds/xxMumford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Chicago Blackhawks are playing against the Boston Bruins and Patrick Sharp finds himself hoping to catch up with an old teammate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> I don't ever post my fanfiction so this is a first for me. I wrote this on a whim for a friend of mine (teasing purposes) and I was more or less talked into posting it here on AO3. It's not the best and I didn't write it with the intention of showing very many other people but hopefully it's not too bad!

The Blackhawks were in Boston for a game that day and it was just one of those games that Patrick Sharp hated playing. It wasn't the fact that the Bruins were collected and organized, or they had an impressive goalie, but it was just the sheer knowledge that one of his close friends and former teammate had been drafted by the Bruins earlier that year. Turco wasn't on the ice that game, just as Sharp had expected, but he knew he was there and he /knew/ Turco knew that he was being sought after so it was no surprise to Sharpie when after the game he received a call from the former Star and Blackhawk. 

Their conversation was brief and happened all too quickly for Patrick to actually soak in the swell of relief and joy that washed over him when he heard that familiar voice in his ear for the first time in a long time. They agreed to meet up in town not long after the game and Sharpie had time to clean himself up a bit more after returning to the hotel the Chicago Blackhawks were staying in. It was fortunate that the team didn't have to immediately board the jet and set their sights on home following the game, as per usual, so the man counted his blessings. Patrick had decided to dress semi-casually, donning one of the only pairs of jeans he'd packed, a league t-shirt, and a jacket which he'd zipped up halfway. For an NHL player, he looked almost unrecognizable and in the city of a rival team, that was a good thing.

After flagging down a cab in front of the team's hotel, Sharpie carefully read off the address of a local bar to the driver and once the door was shut they were off. It was perhaps five or so minutes before the yellow cab pulled up to its destination and Patrick paid the fair in the form of a few bucks smacked to the cabbie's palm before stepping out into the brisk Boston night. Little to no time was spent stepping inside where replays of tonight's game were playing across the number of large television screens. A sports bar...leave it to Turco. Still, Patrick had to stop for a brief second to smile at the TV when the Blackhawk's game winning goal was screened and it was then that he was discovered. 

“Might wanna be careful there,” came Marty's voice without warning from somewhere nearby and Sharp glanced this way and that until finally catching sight of the large man sitting just a few yards away from him with a knowing smile on his face. Sharpie naturally seemed just a tad baffled, perhaps even a bit cheeky with how excited he was and once he sat down at the table in front of Turco that familiarity returned and they delved into immediate conversation after a quick and firm shake of the hand. 

They discussed quite a few things: Turco's first few days on the team, interaction with the members, those times on the ice when they'd simply goof off and make asses of themselves for the camera, their home life, and then...after quite a few drinks...there was quiet talk about the “old times” him at Patrick shared on more than one occasion. 

By the time they'd left the bar, both men were flushed and their eyes glassy but far from completely wasted. Somehow, someway, Turco had convinced Patrick to come back to his place to show him how he'd settled in in Boston. Of course that was the case... The ride in backseat of the cab felt longer than it actually was, especially for Turco. Sharpie leaned toward the man in the back, slowly and calmly so as to avoid alerting the driver, and drew a hand slowly along the bulk of the goalie's arm, to his shoulder, and his chest. His sharp nose tucked against the man's throat and his cheek was pressed to his broad shoulder while that roaming hand traced the rise of Marty's stomach and soon, his thigh. Sharp's knuckles curled lightly against the other man's jeans, kneading against his groin and Turco had to ask just what had gotten into Sharpie, to which he responded with a low chuckle and a withdraw of his hand. Fuck.

“Nice city,” Sharpie murmured while readjusting his position in his seat with a hitched breath. “Yeah, it's not so bad. I have to say though, I do miss it back in Chicago. Hell, even Dallas,” Turco replied a few seconds later after clearing his throat and turning his gaze outside and watching the lights of the city flash by the windows as the cab sped toward the goalie's Boston home. They spoke casually in low, muffled voices but they could never quite handle looking at one another for too long before they quickly looked away, the tension so high, the heat, the /need/ just sitting there between the both of them. The urges left Patrick's hands curling at his knees and they didn't uncoil until the taxi came to a stop before Turco's house. Marty was first to slip out and Patrick unbuckled and slid across the seat to join him outside. The driver was paid and the door was shut and just seconds later Patrick and Marty were left standing on the goalie's empty driveway. 

The Blackhawk glanced around expectantly before turning on his heel to follow Turco up to the front door. “No one home?” He asked. Marty unlocked the door and smirked slightly, glancing over to Patrick. “Right now? No. I wouldn't be bringing you here if anyone was, man. You know that.” That low tone sent an expectant shudder down the narrow of Sharpie's back and again his hands formed anxious fists at his sides as that door opened. 

They stepped inside together and then the door was shut and the tumbler clicked loudly as it was locked. Sharpie spent a few moments glancing around the home, inspecting family photographs along the walls and the living room just down the short hallway they'd entered. Turco tossed his keys on the bar by the door and shrugged out of his jacket and Patrick followed suit. Marty took the jacket and hung it up by the door along with his own then he turned back to Sharpie and eyed him closely, head tilting. Their eyes locked, though Sharpie's gaze was almost bashful as he peered at him from under his brows and Turco just couldn't stop himself from raising a hand and grasping at that fine jaw, thumb grazing over scruff and smoothing along until his fingers pushed into that head of dark hair. The alternate captain gave a low gasp as those fingers curled in his hair, his back arching and his lips parting, eyes lidded as their lips meshed for the first time that evening.

Patrick's back was against the door and he could feel the coolness of the wood seeping through the fabric of his shirt and it was just about as soothing as the broad frame that had suddenly closed around him. Turco's powerful arms wrapped around Sharpie's waist, large hands splayed across his back and curling into the fabric of his shirt, lightly tugging at it. Sharpie raised his hands and settled one upon Marty's arm, smoothing it up to his shoulder while the other hand traced the back of his neck and ran over his head, urging him closer as he met Turco's kiss with desperation. Their tongues met, rolling against each other and their teeth tugged at lips and they groaned against one another as their lips smacked noisily. Sharpie managed to break away with a loud pop of their mouths and he panted, lips swollen from their furious kiss. His forehead was pressed to Marty's and their noses bumped as he gave a light chuckle. 

“No tour?” He asked. 

“No tour,” Turco confirmed with a grin of his own. 

They slipped away from one another and Turco turned, leading Sharpie away from the entrance hall and into the living room and from there, up a set of stairs and into another hallway lined with his children's rooms and inevitably, the room Marty shared with a significant other. The Blackhawk took it upon himself to take in the surroundings of the home as they went, as out of it as he was, and even though he'd just made out with the man of the house he couldn't help but feel relatively...comfortable.

Upon stepping into the bedroom Turco turned to glance at Sharpie and he stood at the foot of the bed, waiting, the expression on his face inviting Sharpie inside. Patrick took the bait and he approached and was once again in those arms, their frames pressed close and their hands searching, grasping madly at the other. Marty grasped at Sharp's shirt, quickly pulling it over his head and flinging it across the room before placing his hands on those hips and pulling them even closer. He settled down on the bed and left Patrick flopping right down on his lap. 

The Blackhawk landed on him with a grunt and his hands quickly found Turco's own shirt and once it was off and that powerful upper body exposed to the cool air of the room, he pushed the goalie down on the bed and leaned over him. Patrick's lips and tongue traced the length of Marty's throat, then his chest, and his tongue circled one of his nipples before giving that bud a playful little nip and tug that left Marty groaning quietly. The goalie's capable hands were on Patrick's pants, thumbs slipping into the belt loops and pulling with need as if hoping those jeans would just slip away. He fumbled with the button and zipper of Sharpie's pants and when they came undone he moved on immediately to his own jeans. Sitting up, he urged Patrick off of him and worked off his what clothing he had left, kicking off his shoes in the process. Sharpie followed suit and soon the both of them were naked upon Turco's bed, the younger man on his knees while Turco settled back down on his back. 

The Bruin's hands found Sharpie's hips and he carefully pulled him over, shifting him in a way that left him straddling his thighs though his back was to his chest. It wasn't until then that Patrick realized what it was Turco was aiming for – the sliding closet doors had mirrors upon them and Sharp found himself face-to-face with them. It made him laugh and he looked to Turco's reflection in the mirror with that smile of his. “I should have known, Turc.” This made Marty smile and he shrugged his shoulder with an innocent cant of his head, bottom lip jutting out slightly. “Yeah, guess you should've.” 

The bed shifted as the older man leaned back, extending an arm to the bedside table nearby and tugging the drawer open. His hand fished around in it for a few moments until he pulled out a bottle of lube. All the while Patrick had been left there with his legs spread around Turco's thighs, his eyes tracing their reflection with a tongue along his lips. He watched himself as he smoothed a hand over Turco's thigh, higher and higher until his hand cupped his scrotum and he kneaded that weight in his hands with an expectant grin. A low groan rose from the man under him and he could feel the twitch of Turco's cock against his wrist which only drew his attention to it. 

Sharpie's hand closed around that semi-erect muscle and he pumped at it slowly, staring down at it between their legs and watching with devious eyes as with each upward draw of his hand that head oozed pre-ejaculate that was quickly smeared by fingers and foreskin and used as lubrication. “Fuuuck, Sharpie,” Turco breathed and glanced to Patrick's face in the mirror. 

“Like old times, huh?” 

“Like old times.”

Sharp smoothed the pad of his thumb over that drooling slit at Marty's tip. Those powerful legs under him gave a harsh jerk then there came a harsh slap to Patrick's inner thigh by Turco's free hand. The alternate captain cried out, doubling over awkwardly which left his ass settled on Marty's stomach and his face buried into the sheets between Turco's legs. “You get the message quick,” Turco teased with a sluggish, crooked tilt of his lips. Patrick tossed a glare over his shoulder but immediately looked away, turning his aggressions instead on the man's cock in the form of a harsh squeeze right at the base. That shut the man up quick, at least for the time being. 

Sharpie adjusted his legs comfortably around Turco's frame and raised his ass in the air for the man. His cheeks were left a dark shade of pink as he'd never been /this/ exposed to anyone before but that blush only deepened when he felt a warmth against that pucker between his buttocks. Marty had lubed up a finger and was already rolling it along that tight skin, teasing it, making it quiver until finally he dipped his thick middle finger inside but only partially until he slowly withdrew it. 

Sharpie's face twisted into an expression of pleasure and he clenched his teeth, spreading his legs even wider around Turco's body. The heat of the man's belly against the bottom of his semi-erect cock was driving him insane and slowly he rolled his hips, practically humping the man's stomach with need. The bitter amused laughter of Turco fell on deaf ears as Patrick bowed his head and quickly took that cock in his mouth and he just couldn't resist turning his gaze to the mirror before them, watching as he all but swallowed that girth. God, he looked like such a slut... Those hips continued to roll for that friction and that thick finger within him continued to push in and out, twisting every so often, curling within him until another finger was inserted and those digits spread. “Haven't taken a cock in some time, have you Sharpie?” Turco commented with a smile. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Sharpie managed after his lips popped noisily off of that cock and his hand took to stroking roughly at that length. The younger man needed a moment to collect himself, bowing his head and resting his cheek against Turco's thigh while the older man amused himself with finger fucking Patrick's tight ass, both thumbs occasionally pressing into that hole and hooking within him, spreading that hole wide enough for a brief glance into that dark passage. Every so often Turco's tongue would roll between those buttocks, teasing Patrick further and occasionally spiting against it for more lubrication before those fingers dipped into him again, three this time. So fucking dirty. By that point Sharp was hard as a rock against the man's chest and every brush to his ass left his muscle tweaking painfully. 

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum...”

“Not yet you aren't,” Turco chided. 

“Shut the fuck up man, come on, quit teasing me...” 

That backtalk earned a harsh slap right to his spread ass and Patrick jumped, crying out onto that cock just as soon as he'd taken it back in his mouth. Drool dribbled between his lips as he took Turco in to the balls and he lingered there even as he gagged loudly against that muscle before raising his head with a sharp gasp. Before Sharp realized it, Turco was sitting up and guiding him back onto his lap where he sat back against him, his back once again to his chest. The goalie brought up his legs, hooking them under Patrick's and locking his ankles around Sharp's own to leave him completely exposed to the mirror. “Look at that, will ya?” He goaded as he lowered his hands to Sharpie's erect dick and gave him a few pumps.

The Blackhawk's eyes flew open and his head slumped against Marty's shoulder as he was stroked but Turco's free hand was in that brown hair once again, yanking his head upright. “No, you're going to watch, Sharpie. Like a good boy, yeah?” He slapped Sharpie's cock against his thigh a few times before giving him a slow stroke to his head. “/Yeah/?” Marty emphasized and earned a defeated nod from Sharpie though he tried to close his legs but found they were held locked in place by Marty's own. Fucker. 

“Fuck me.”

“What's that?”

“Fuck me, Turco. Fuck!” 

“You need a cock that bad, huh?”

Yes. Fucking yes, Sharpie needed this and he knew Turco knew how to fuck him...thoroughly and efficiently. It had been so long -- /too/ long. 

“Say please...” Turco murmured against Sharpie's ear, his nose nuzzling into that hair and inhaling the alternate captain's scent. He exhaled hotly against the man's ear and his teeth snagged upon that lobe, tugging almost roughly and leaving Sharpie crying out into the open room. “Please!” He barked and slammed his eyes shut, unable to look at their reflections any longer. Turco smirked and his free hand slipped from Sharpie's hair and instead settled on his chest, rough palm smoothing over hot skin, memorizing each and every thing there was to memorize on that perfect body. They scooted closer to the edge of the bed and Turco placed his feet on the floor but still kept the younger man's legs locked in place. 

Patrick's erection was abandoned and the hand which had been tending to it moved instead to his own cock, positioning it at the Blackhawk's stretched ass. There wouldn't be much need for lubrication which was amusing to Turco. “You still drool like a baby when you've got me in your mouth.” A smirk. “Shut the /fuck/ up, Turco!” Patrick sneered through clenched teeth, red in the face and furious with lust but that expression slipped when Marty buried himself deep in that ass. Both men groaned and Turco could hardly believe just how fucking /tight/ Sharpie was around him. He buried himself to the balls within him, all the while keeping him still locked upon him. 

Sharpie's hips rolled against Marty, circling around slowly and he could feel every single inch within him and it drove him insane. Turco's eyes were locked on that flawless expression on the Canadian's face, transfixed on how those lips parted and that head leaned back to expose that throat. Almost as if on queue Turco's lips were there, suckling, and his teeth bit down which only earned another beautiful moan from the younger man. 

Using the bed as leverage, Marty bounced up into Sharpie and left him bouncing upon his lap, the bed giving a funny squeak with each and every thrust. Their naked flesh clapped noisily and before long their thighs were shaded red with the force which they'd been slamming against one another and it stung but it felt so /good/. Sharpie managed to open his eyes, head slumped against the Bruin's broad shoulder, and stared at the mirror as he was rutted into so perfectly. He could have laughed at just how undone he looked and at how his cock bounced and spun between his thighs with each trust. It only encouraged him to reach down and grasp himself, stroking himself quickly in time with those bucks and only making him heave a breath of satisfaction. 

“You're so dirty,” Turco rasped as he stilled for a few moments to catch his breath before he settled back on the bed, perched up by his elbows. He supported much of his weight upon one while his other hand moved to Sharpie's side and held him there, urging him to continue rocking against his cock. Sharpie followed suit, hands reaching behind him and grasping those powerful legs and he bucked his hips up and down for Turco, fucking himself hastily against the length tucked deep into him. 

“Good fucking boy,” Marty slurred and sat back. God, he loved it when Patrick did the dirty work and he sat back and enjoyed it, watching the man bounce against him. Several minutes passed until Sharpie slowed, flustered and out of breath then with a forced heave of his body he rolled off of Turco – but not quick enough, as Turco was briefly transfixed by that gaping ass. /God/. 

Their lips were together again, roughly this time and Sharpie could taste blood upon his tongue as Turco bit into his bottom lip. It only encouraged Sharpie further and he raised his leg, straddling that broad body once more and seating himself obediently upon the goalie's erection. It was deep in him again and Patrick immediately began to rock against it. He wanted this. Turco could just tell with how quick he was to initiate their contact and hell if the Bruin would refuse him. Those large hands clasped those hips and he drew his legs up on the bed, his legs spread slightly and his feet pressed into the sheets and again he was thrusting up and into that hot heat. 

Patrick rode him with hips rolling, circling upon him while his hands pressed firmly against that broad chest and shoulders, blunt nails nuzzling into the skin though not quite deep enough to draw blood but surely with enough force to bruise. Turco loved it. He loved just how wild Sharpie was in bed once he gave in to that temptation, that need to just be a dirty slut for him and he was. Turco's hand was around Sharpie's sex, stroking and pumping him quickly and off tempo just to drive him that much more insane and soon he felt that own pressure building and his head hit the pillows with a moan. Patrick managed a labored laugh before he was immediately silenced by a particularly harsh slap to his hip then the rough press of those thumbs against him. 

“Fuck. Fuck...” Patrick whined and arched against Turco, face twisting in that way the goalie had seen before. “A-Ah, fuck! I'm gonna...gonna...hhhgh.” He couldn't find words and he could hear Turco encouraging him under his breath, low “c'mon”s and “cum for me”s but everything was a buzz in his ears and he could have sworn he went deaf with the force of the climax that came over him. He shuddered then was bucking pathetically over the man, wildly, like a spaz and he came all over the man's stomach. His eyes roll and he doubled forward, face smacking into that chest and he screamed against it without any true attempt to hold it in. 

That noise drove Turco over the edge and just seconds later he gave one last, finally pump into Sharpie and came hard within him. His muscles were locked for those few seconds as he growled loudly through his teeth then his body went into overdrive and he bucked quickly into Sharpie, riding his orgasm until he couldn't possibly move any longer. 

They went limp, sprawled there on the bed, panting and heaving like mad men. Their limbs felt like liquefied lead and their bodies were clammy with sweat, slick with ejaculate and sticking to the sheets. It was probably one of the best sensations in the world. Turco could feel some of his cum trickle from Sharpie's abused rear and it sent a delightful little shake through him and almost as if giving the younger man a gold star, he patted him affectionately on the back and gave him a light shake. “Damn,” was all he could manage. Patrick jerked with a laugh and lifted his flushed face from Turco's chest, looking up at him with tired eyes and a drooping brow. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed. 

Several minutes passed in which they both rested there collecting their breaths, then Sharpie finally managed to move and he flopped right over onto the bed and rested beside Turco's naked body. He pushed his hands through his matted and sweaty hair then looked to the Bruin beside him. “Not bad, old man,” he teased and gave him a little pat on the stomach before stretching with a groan. “Didn't do so bad yourself, kid. Thanks for that.” He laughed, grin glinting in the dull light of the room. 

“You played pretty well today, too.” 

Sharpie arched a brow and looked over.

“I know.”


End file.
